Game of Thrones: A Second Chance

Daenerys II

A fortnight has passed since she had been brought back. Not much has happened except her sitting in bed and healing. Every now and then she would go to see Drogon, her forever loyal child.

"If I didn't come back, what would you have done, Drogon? I wonder," she had murmured to him one day. The dragon responded with a growl, not liking the question and it's suggestions.

Perhaps he would've gone back to the Seven Kingdoms and burnt it to the ground. The way she did to King's Landing a moon ago, she thought regretfully. Or he would've found Jon and killed him for killing her.

"What happened... after?" She had asked Kinvara the day after she woke. She assumed Jon usurped her throne, like she had always feared he might, no matter how many times he denied it. How he called her his Queen. But then he stabbed her through the heart. Like she meant nothing to him.

"After your death, the North became independent with Sansa Stark as its Queen. The other six are now ruled by Bran Stark, who they are calling Bran the Broken," Kinvara had told her.

Daenerys cursed then. Of course Sansa would take advantage the first moment she heard of her death. She always knew Sansa was cunning. But Bran as King? "What about Jon Snow?"

"Imprisoned for a fortnight. Then he was sent to the wall to rejoin the Night's Watch."

He wasn't the king. That eased her mind. He was both a Kinslayer and a Queenslayer, two titles unworthy of becoming Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Or six.

Today, she planned on leaving Volantis. She had been there long enough, and people were starting to wonder why there was a dragon in the city. If she stayed any longer, she was in danger of being found. So instead, she would fly to Meereen, the place she called home for far longer than Dragonstone. She would hide there, living as a civilian rather than its queen, for that was too risky.

Oh, how she wished she could just go to King's Landing and win back her throne. Then she wouldn't need to live a life on the run. But she couldn't risk Drogon like that. If he died, dragons would once again be extinct, and Daenerys didn't want that.

Since she had only been there for little time, she had nothing to pack. What she did bring, though, was the dagger. The dagger that ended her life. She brought it out of spite, and as a reminder of what happened.

So, with the dagger tucked away in a bag she carried on her shoulder, she climbed atop Drogon. Not before saying her thanks to Kinvara for everything she's done.

Drogon growled from below her, scales rippling as he stretched.

"Alright, my child. It's time to go home," Daenerys said, putting a hand to his scales. "Sovegon."

Drogon's wings expanded and a moment later they were airborne. Daenerys felt the familiar rush after a long time without flying. She felt the most alive when she was on Drogon's back.

Drogon roared fiercely, and it echoed in the surrounding mountains.

It took a few moments before Daenerys realized he was heading in the wrong direction. He was going west, not east.

"Drogon, we're going to Meereen, not Dragonstone or anywhere else in Westeros," Daenerys shouted over the wind. Drogon roared, not listening. He kept going west.

What was wrong with him? Daenerys gripped his spikes tightly and pulled, causing Drogon to come to a complete stop, and they were hovering. He screeched, unhappily.

Lēkia he insisted. Daenerys frowned.

"Brother? Rhaegal is dead, Drogon." Buried under the waves of Blackwater Bay, she thought regretfully. Euron Greyjoy paid for it with his life, though it was Jaime Lannister who had killed him.